


Say It With Flowers

by ifishouldvanish



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, One Shot, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 01:02:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5986954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifishouldvanish/pseuds/ifishouldvanish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle always spends Valentine's Day watching movies with her father. But this year, Moe insists she find a real date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say It With Flowers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rumbellelives](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rumbellelives/gifts).



> For @rumbellelives 'A Rumbelle Valentine's Day'

To say it was a busy day at Game of Thorns would be an understatement. It was the day before Valentine’s and virtually every resident of Storybrooke was rushing in to pick up orders or grab a last-minute bouquet. It’s the only florist shop in town, so the only alternative is to pick up a sad little dozen of half-wilted roses from the pharmacy.

The demand on Valentine’s Day is far too much for Moe French to handle on his own, but his daughter Belle has always been happy to oblige him by taking orders, working the register, and handling pickups while he works his magic building the arrangements in the back. Since her mother’s passing, Valentine’s Day has always been a father-daughter affair for Belle. Moe didn’t care much for the thought of his precious daughter going on romantic outings and quite frankly, she generally preferred to spend the evening at home with her nose in a book anyway.

The sun was setting on Storybrooke and things at the shop were finally slowing down. Moe and his daughter were in the back room, setting up the orders for tomorrow morning.

“You think you wanna watch Casablanca again, papa?”

Moe didn’t answer.

“No?” His daughter prodded. “You’re right, we should watch something else this year.” The large man let out a huff, refusing to look up at her. Instead, he busied himself by meticulously trimming the stems on the bouquet he’d just finished.

“Don’t you wanna… go out tomorrow night?” He finally asked. “You know, with a proper fella?” Belle chuckled.

“You’ve always been my fella, papa!” She flashed him a loving smile. He finally tore his eyes away from the bouquet to look up at his daughter.

“I know, I know,” he groused. “But I think you should go out, love.” Belle arched her brow.

“Why? Does somebody have a date with a secret admirer?” She teased.

“Please,” he dismissed with a grin. Belle leered at him, awaiting an explanation. “It’s just that… when your mother was still around, we would always have such a lovely time together on Valentine’s.” Moe’s expression sombered as the memories flowed through his mind. “I want you to be able to enjoy it with someone you care about too, instead of spending it cooped up with your old man.” Belle looked at her father with a thoughtful smile. After a moment, she spoke up.

“Well, you’re out of luck because I don’t have a date and all the girls already have plans.”

“I bet Gaston would be thrilled to be your date,” he was quick to suggest.

“Papa!” Belle groaned, her blue eyes widening in exasperation. “We’ve been over this! I don’t want to go out with Gaston!”

Belle and Gaston were childhood friends. He was a perfectly pleasant and kind person, though a bit too macho for Belle’s taste. Everyone always expected they’d end up together, but Belle never felt that way about him. Gaston however, had made it clear sometime in high school that he felt strongly for her. She’d let him down gently and the two remained friends, but she wasn’t about to give him any ideas by asking for his company tomorrow night.

“Well,” Moe sighed, “you’re a beautiful young woman, Belle. I think it’s time you put yourself out there, is all.” He paused in thought for moment. “...It would make me happy to see you go out and have a nice time.” Moe was busying himself again with another arrangement.

“Well,” Belle smiled, nibbling on her bottom lip. “If it’s what would make my papa happy… I suppose I could at least _try_ to make plans.” Moe glanced back up and smiled. “Are you sure, papa? You wouldn’t be lonely?” His daughter’s brows furrowed in concern.

“Belle, don’t you worry about your old man.” He chuckled. “I mean it.” Belle’s face brightened up once more as she threw her arms around him.

“Okay, papa.” She gave him a peck on the cheek before nuzzling into his shoulder. “We’ll see.”

 

*****

 

Finding a date on such short notice seemed an insurmountable task. Belle witnessed first hand as the entire town came into the shop to pick up roses for the dates they already had. But there was one person who kept coming to mind. _Mr Gold._

Mr Gold was their reclusive and rather ill-tempered landlord. Her father couldn’t stand him, but Belle had always been somewhat taken by him ever since he’d come into the shop one day. It was shortly after she’d completed her degree out of state and returned to Storybrooke. It was her first day back working at the shop. As he walked in, Belle could tell Mr Gold was caught off guard by the sight of her at the counter rather than her father. She had never met him before, but she knew who he was right away一 she’d heard plenty of stories after all. He had come in to pick up a bouquet of gladiolus and statice一 flowers of remembrance. It followed then, that he was in a somber mood that day. He had hardly spoken a word, which was a shame considering how lovely his accent was.

But then there was that smile. _Oh lord, that smile._ Belle had stepped into the back room to fetch his order from the refrigerator, but stumbled over the threshold on her way back. She’d nearly knocked over a display of chocolates, her recovery involving hopping on one foot and muttering a few obscenities under her breath一 all before latching onto the counter as though her life depended on it. It was a miracle really, that she hadn’t dropped his bouquet and fallen on top of it, crushing the purple and white blooms beyond recognition. But the greater miracle was the way she found him smiling at her after she’d worked up the nerve to look back up at him. It was  ear to ear and there were dimples and it was _beautiful_. His sable eyes were practically glowing like he was lit from within and she’d immediately forgotten about the blunder she was mortified by only a second ago. All she could do was smile back.

And so Belle made a point of being present during all of Gold’s subsequent visits to collect rent. Moe didn’t mind, and had even told her that Mr Gold seemed considerably less beastly when she was there. She’d always catch him casting a few curious glances in her direction as he spoke with her father. And regardless of how unpleasant the exchange between the two of them went, Mr Gold would always offer her a warm, albeit tightlipped, smile on his way out the door. They made Belle’s heart swell and she couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps he might regard her the same way she did him.

It was decided then. She would ask Mr Gold to accompany her tomorrow night. Belle insisted on staying behind at the shop to further prep for the Valentine’s morning rush. With her father gone, she got to work arranging a bouquet for her admired.

She grabbed a handful of black dahlia and scabiosa stems. The blood red of their outer petals reminded her of the carmine-colored silk tie she always found suited him exceptionally well. Red roses had become scarce, so she opted instead for a half dozen deep purple ones. He looked delicious in purple as well. Besides, it wouldn’t be a Valentine’s arrangement without roses, after all. Next were a few stems of white jasmine, finished off by a handful of dusty miller.

After a few minutes of poking and prodding and snipping, she was quite satisfied with the result. It was really too opulent for the occasion, but it seemed to suit him nonetheless. After giving her work a final inspection, she grabbed a notecard and scribbled down a message. With a hopeful smile, she tucked it inside the arrangement.

 

*****

 

Mr Gold never cared for Valentine’s Day. He considered it load of commercialized bollocks. He’d spend it alone, holed away in his office, inspecting the boxful of old watches and jewelry he had yet to properly appraise. He was perfectly aware that he was simply bitter after spending a few too many Valentine’s Days alone一 he just didn’t care. It was the morning of this treacherous day and Mr Gold was walking up Main Street, preoccupied with digging the shop keys out of his coat, before he noticed them.

Flowers.

A whole damn bouquet left at the front door of his shop.

_What the bloody Hell?_

Someone was playing some sort of prank on him, surely. He glanced over his shoulder, looking for the bastard who might be responsible. With no one in sight, he cautiously squat down to pick them up. He did his best to look as irritable as possible while doing so, just in case.

Once inside the shop, Mr Gold placed the fragrant offering on his desk for further inspection. A little slip of ivory cardstock peeped out from between the dark blooms. Hesitantly, he pulled it out. It read:

> _I fetched you some flowers_  
>  _And your smile gave me a start  
>  You came in for the rent  
>  But may have left with my heart_
> 
> _\- B.F._

Mr Gold felt his heart drop to his stomach and his face go beet red. He wished the floor beneath him might open up and swallow him whole. Lord knows he belonged down there. There was no question this was the work of Moe’s daughter. _The nerve of her._ She was always gazing at him and giving him sweet little smiles, not that he minded. In truth, he was quite smitten with her. But that didn’t mean he was prepared for _this_ . He had fully intended to live out his pathetic life alone, without ever having to let anyone know how much he secretly enjoyed collecting rent from Moe ever since she’d shown up with her freakishly blue eyes and her soft, plump cheeks that just _had to be_ sore from all the smiling she was always doing.

He let out a sigh and poured himself a glass of scotch. It was definitely much too early to be drinking, but these were extenuating circumstances. He shrugged off his coat and jacket, because _damn_ was it hot in his office.

He glanced over the little card over and over again. He must have read her adorable little poem about thirty times, and was starting to feel embarrassed for himself. What was he supposed to do with this information? That was a dangerous question. He knew damn well what he _wanted_ to do. He’d march into the florist’s shop and finally invite her to dinner. She’d graciously accept and he’d spend the entire evening audience to every lovely word that fell from her petal soft lips. At the end of the night, perhaps一 just maybe一 she’d allow him to part from her with a small kiss. But the reasonable part of him reminded himself that this all had to be some kind of mistake.

Sure, it was definitely her handwriting.

And he was the only person who went about town collecting rent.

And as far as he was aware, she was the only one in town with the initials B.F.

...who worked in the only florist shop in town.

And one would have to be absolutely daft to mistakenly leave a bouquet at _his_ shop, seeing as his name was plastered all over the storefront. Belle French wasn’t daft.

He must be missing something he thought, taking another sip of his scotch. Who in their right mind would ever allow themselves to lose their heart to him? Perhaps if he stormed over there right now and demanded an explanation for this foolishness, he could get to the bottom of it all without having to reveal his true intentions. It might hurt her feelings, but if he hadn’t scared her off yet, how much harm could he possibly do now?

He threw his jacket and coat back on, grabbed the bouquet, and set off for the florist.

 

*****

 

Belle was standing at the counter ruminating over her little stunt, her stomach in knots. What if he’s outright offended? He’d probably never smile at her again. The shop had been open for all but about fifteen minutes and it was still too early for any customers to be showing up. And then the door slammed, sending the bell rattling violently. _Rude,_ she thought. But then she looked up and there he was. He looked intense. She’d think him terrifying if she wasn’t already so infatuated. She just smiled at him.

“Miss French.” He muttered, storming up to the counter as quickly as his cane would let him. “Would you care to explain to me what _this_ is?” He demanded. Mr Gold tried to slam the bouquet on the counter, but his instincts intervened just before it made contact, leaving him no choice but to place it down gently. The whole movement was awkward and not at all what he was aiming for. Belle looked up at him, biting down on her lip and trying desperately to fight a grin. After a moment, she glanced down at the bouquet.

“I believe it’s called a valentine, Mr. Gold.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that, Miss French.” He hissed. “What was it doing at my front door?” She was eyeing him all over, her lips pursing and twisting in thought.

“I didn’t know your home address,” she shrugged, “so I figured your shop would be the next best thing.” Her tone was nonchalant but the grin on her face told different story. How could anyone argue with that? Instead he just stared at her like some poor confused animal, his mouth agape. “...Is there a problem, Mr Gold?” She finally asked.

“N-no,” he stammered. “I uh, suppose not.” His eyes flitted across the shop anxiously, meeting everything except her gaze.

“...Do you like them?” She asked. “I put it together myself.” She was beaming at him with her bright blue eyes. He winced the moment his eyes finally locked with hers.

“Yes,” he blurted. “They’re uh, v-very nice, Miss French. Quite lovely.”

Now they were just staring at each other. Belle with a warm smile, Gold with the expression of a deer in the headlights. He really ought to excuse himself now, before he does something to embarrass himself.

“Was there anything else, Mr Gold?” She prodded. His adam’s apple bobbed and he glanced down at his feet for a moment. Belle sure hoped there was something else. He cleared his throat, lifting his head back up and nodding his hair out of his face.

“I-” He stalled and raised a finger. “You-” He cut himself off again and let out a deep sigh. “...Why?” He finally squeaked out. Belle’s grin had grown so wide it was becoming damned near impossible for him to keep resisting his own.

“Because I like you, Mr Gold,” she confessed. He just stared at her, confused. “I think you’re a very interesting man, and well一” She pursed her lips and lidded her eyes in an attempt to appear demure. “...I find you quite handsome.”

Ah, there it was. He couldn’t keep himself in denial about it anymore. She’d just admitted it straight to his face. Now, he thought, would be a favorable time for the pits of Hell to open up and drag him into their depths. His mouth was bone dry, but he knew he had to say _something_. And so he did.

“So…” he mumbled. “You uh一” he paused to clear his throat. “You’re saying you wouldn’t be... _opposed_ to say… joining me for dinner, perhaps? Tonight?” He couldn’t deny the relief of finally saying the words. Especially when he saw her practically squirm with glee. She was smiling brighter than ever, her eyes gleaming with a shade of blue he’d never beheld before. She bit down on her lip and clasped her hands together with excitement.

“There’s nothing I’d love more, Mr Gold,” she exclaimed.

“Oh,” he rasped. “That’s a relief,” he added with a scoff. Mr Gold’s shoulders finally relaxed for the first time since he’d barged in.

“You can pick me up here at six,” she suggested with a smirk.

“Right,” he nodded.

And then there it was. That heart-stopping smile of his. Just like that day he first came into the shop. The wide grin, the dimples, the warm eyes, all of it. Belle had the mind to just reach over the counter and grab him. But then the doorbell jingled.

“Gold!?” Moe French stepped into the shop and did a doubletake that could have easily given him whiplash. “ What are you doing here!? You got your rent last week,” he muttered.

Just like that, the smile was gone.

“Papa!” Belle scolded from behind the counter. “It’s okay, I一 I invited him in!” She folded her arms over her chest and gave him a berating stare. Moe just gazed at her in confusion.

“...What?”

“Papa,” she began calmly. “Mr Gold is going to be my date tonight.” Belle flashed him an assured smile. Moe’s jaw fell to the floor. Then it clenched shut. His face fumed into the color of the roses on the display by the door. His mouth opened again, as if to speak, but nothing came out. A sharp sigh escaped Gold’s lips as he spun around to face him.

“I’ll just uh, excuse myself then,” Mr Gold whispered with a nod. He made two steps for the door, his cane tapping on the floor. Moe’s eyes followed him intently.

“Wait,” Moe sighed, raising a hand up signaling him to stop. Gold froze, barely finding the nerve to meet his gaze. Moe stepped forward and extended his hand. “Mr Gold,” he addressed.

“Yes, Mr French?” Gold glanced at the man’s hand, puzzled.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Mr Gold took Moe’s hand and shook it weakly.

“Likewise, Moe,” he nodded with an arch of the brow, starting for the door again. Moe cleared his throat.

“Hey!” Moe grunted, stopping Mr Gold in his tracks again. “...Don’t forget your flowers,” he reminded him, nodding back at the bouquet on the counter. Gold looked over his shoulder to see Belle happily grabbing the bouquet and practically skipping over to him.

“Come on, Mr Gold,” she said, taking his hand and leading him out the door.

Moe watched from the window as his daughter placed the bouquet in Gold’s hands. The pair were exchanging a few words, but he couldn’t hear. All that mattered to him was the smile on Belle’s face. There was even a smile on Mr Gold’s face. And as he watched, Moe could feel a grin creeping on his own face as well.

With nothing more to say, the two stood on the sidewalk beaming at each other. After a pause, Belle got on her toes and draped a hand over Mr Gold’s shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.


End file.
